


a regular decorated emergency

by thefigureinthecorner



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast), The College Tapes (Podcast)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Gen, Hospitals, Mark being a cool older brother, Stitches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:08:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26830417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefigureinthecorner/pseuds/thefigureinthecorner
Summary: “You good?”“Yeah, I will be. Gonna go sleep for sixteen hours when I get home, I think.”Or: Caleb’s scar story from TCT episode 3 (minor college tapes spoilers within)
Relationships: Mark Bryant & Caleb Michaels
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	a regular decorated emergency

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: I do not understand how blood loss works on account of I am the kind of person who has nearly passed out from papercuts before but I am Doing My Best
> 
> (title from camisado by p!atd)

“Ah, _shit—“_

Caleb’s hand flies to his side, pressing against the spot where the broom grazed him. It fucking _hurts,_ but in the way that slamming your hip against a table hurts— dull, achy, wears off after a couple seconds. But it doesn’t wear off. Instead, it begins to _sting._

His hand feels warm and wet and when he pulls it away to look at it, it’s covered in blood.

The ref blows their whistle and the game stops around him as he presses his hand back to the wound and sinks to the ground, suddenly dizzy from the sight of the blood and from the onslaught of panic-concern-fear that's hitting him from all sides, and the stab of guilt that cuts through all of it from the girl who ran into him. She hands him a folded towel and he accepts it gratefully, holding it against his side.

“Fuck, dude, I’m sorry—“

Caleb takes a deep breath and tries his best at a reassuring smile. “It’s fine, really, it was just an accident.”

“Yeah, but—“

“I’ll be okay, really.” _I’ve dealt with worse,_ he bites down, trying unsuccessfully to force down the rising panic at the reminder of Damien. But the feeling of blood between his fingers, the smell, the sight of the red on his hands— everything forces the memories to bubble back to the surface and his breathing stutters.

_It’s not his blood it’s not his blood it’s not his blood—_

“Woah woah woah hey, easy.” Caleb flinches away from Mark’s hand on his shoulder but leans into the touch once he realizes how grounding it is and how much Mark is trying to project calm towards him. “Deep breaths, yeah? I’m gonna drive you to the ER. Can you stand?”

Caleb takes a couple deep breaths, wincing as the stretch of his ribcage pulls at the cut, and nods uncertainly. “I— I can try.”

He pushes himself up to his feet and immediately tilts to the side, vision spotting.

“Shit—“ Mark catches him, slinging Caleb’s non-bloodied arm over his shoulders. “Okay, you’re way taller and heavier than me but this is gonna have to do. Just lean on me, I parked close, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Caleb laughs a little, trying to lighten the mood. “I didn’t think I’d lost _that_ much blood.”

“Yeah, I dunno how to tell you this, but it’s definitely not a little bit,” Mark grimaces. “It’s not great, dude. And I can feel how much it hurts, remember?”

Caleb hisses. “Right.”

“No, don’t feel bad, I’m the one who volunteered to drive you,” Mark corrects, grimacing even more as he realizes how that sounded. “Okay here, we’re at my car. Just— here, lean up against it for a sec, let me get the door open for you.” He props Caleb up against it and Caleb relaxes into the sun-warmed metal. It’s not hot enough out yet for the car to be unbearably hot to the touch and the feeling is, instead, incredibly soothing.

Mark ushers him into the front seat, reaching around to help him with the seatbelt. “Can you just take your hand off for a sec so I can—“

“Yeah, sorry,” Caleb breathes. The towel stays stuck on by itself so he leaves it there, letting his bloodied hand hover as Mark pulls the seatbelt across. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Caleb zones out a bit, barely noticing Mark get in on the drivers side and start the car. He’s clearly trying to drive more carefully than normal and Caleb appreciates the effort, but each bump in the road jostles the wound and he hisses as the pain spikes. He can feel the apologies reaching out from Mark every time it happens, the small surges of guilt and concern and a tiny bit of his own pain looping back to him.

“Shiiiiit,” Caleb hisses, realizing. “Hospital’s gonna suck.”

“Yeah, they usually do. Sorry man.”

“No, I know that, but I mean— two empaths in a hospital is not gonna be a fun time.”

A spike of that same realization from Mark. “Ah, shit.”

“Yeah.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have some of that ability suppressant stuff Alex has been taking on you, would you?” Caleb smiles a bit, a mix of joking and a genuine question.

“Unfortunately, no. He’s got his own emergency stash but I don’t really hang onto any of it unless he’s with me.”

“Shit.”

“Yup.”

“Thanks for driving me anyway, though. I mean it’s gonna suck but if anyone else on the quidditch team had taken me they would’ve had absolutely no clue why I was freaking out so much. At least you _know.”_

“True. That’s true. We’re here, by the way.”

Caleb opens his eyes and picks his head up off the window where he’d begun to rest it, staring at the red emergency room sign above him and taking a deep breath to steel himself. He can already feel the edges of the emotions inside and he can tell it’s not going to be a fun next couple of hours.

Mark squeezes his arm. “C’mon. I’ll be right there with you, yeah? We can be misery buddies.”

Caleb cracks a nervous, woozy smile. “I mean I’ve gotta go in eventually, so might as well go in before I pass out from the blood loss or something.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Mark helps him get back out of the car and the shuffle-walk from earlier resumes. The waiting room is mercifully empty and he’s ushered onto a hallway bed to lie down after one look at his ashen face, barely holding himself upright.

It’s not as bad as Caleb had expected it would be. It sucks, it’s not pleasant, he gets pretty damn close to hyperventilating from some of the sudden surges of grief or pain or fear, but it’s not as bad as he expected it to be. His head feels too fuzzy to put much thought into quieting the feelings, but it’s also too fuzzy to really grasp or process any of the feelings for more than a few seconds at a time even _with_ them ping-ponging back and forth between him and Mark, so it balances out.

“Hey Mark, I figured out how to make my ability shut up a bit,” he murmurs, looking around to make sure nobody’s there to overhear. “Just lose a whole fuckton of blood.”

“Okay, we’re definitely going to talk about that later,” Mark says, patting Caleb’s arm. “Please don’t make this a habit.”

“Copy that.” Caleb groans as his own pain flares back up again.

The next couple hours pass in a blur of waiting, swirls of emotions, apple juice, and a frankly alarming amount of stitches that get done in a frankly alarmingly short amount of time for how long he had to wait for them. It’s an hour of waiting followed by an absolute whirlwind of activity and Caleb is thoroughly exhausted by the time he gets back to Mark’s car, ribs bandaged, hands washed, and wearing a new _get well soon!_ shirt Mark had kindly procured from the hospital gift shop to replace his newly-ruined quidditch team shirt.

He shoots a quick text to Alice on the way home— _got stitches, please no hugs or punches when I get back k thx—_ and leans his head against the headrest, closing his eyes and relaxing into his own emotions and the familiarity of Mark’s now that the two of them are away from other people.

“You good?”

“Yeah, I will be. Gonna go sleep for sixteen hours when I get home, I think.”

“Good plan.”

With that, Caleb dozes off, letting the steady hum of the car’s engine lull him to sleep as Mark pulls out of the hospital driveway.


End file.
